


A very Grimm year

by Holmesslice



Category: Captain America (Movies), Grimm (TV), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holmesslice/pseuds/Holmesslice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A waschbar deals with her entire life falling apart around her. All she knows is that she has to get the hell out of dodge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wesen versus Lizard

**Chapter 1: Wesen versus Lizard**

_Run_

The lizard brain urges her to run.

_Fight_

The wesen brain urges her to fight.

_Run_

"Find safety," it whispers. Her world is falling apart. Look for a way out. “Look, find, escape,” the lizard brain pleads.

_Fight_

Stand up, stand your ground, make a stand, stand shoulder to shoulder _fight_. “Let me out, let me fight,” the wesen brain croons.

_Run_

All of the exits are blocked. Look for a desk to hide under, “Look, find, hide,” the lizard brain pleads, “choose flight.”

 _Fight_

She stands up as the others begin to stand. Her heart starts to race as the brevity of the situation sinks into the marrow of her bones. She can feel the biological responses kicking in: the racing pulse, the shortening breaths, the acrid sweat that fills her nostrils, and the adrenaline. In this tense situation where no one is safe, no one is trustworthy, and everyone is on edge. “Yes,” the wesen brain whispers.

_Fight_

She’s nothing more than the culmination of urges: one reptilian, one procyonid; some urges given into, some denied.

_Fight_

She is an agent even if her introduction into the job was dubious and frankly forced; joining the fight is only viable option available to her. She had been sworn to fight all offensives for the good of the world (even though she'd wonder whose world they were referring to more so now given the situation) with the little training she was subjected to.

Captain America in his full uniform paints himself an easy target. Ever the sacrificial lamb who is anything but fragile has an adept tactician mind. Make himself the target and make the enemy known so that those on the side of the shield will know who to fight. She will make shield (Captain's shield and what it represented, never the questionable secret paramilitary group) proud, Captain America himself proud.

_Fight_

Hydra, it was Hydra?! She now has a target one once believed to be long gone. As she looks around, she thinks "make that many targets" which causes her to feel a chill root itself in the small of her back. Sleeper agents awakening from slumber to their call to action which is more than unnerving.

Even down in the pencil-pushing, paper jockeying hell that is the administration levels do friends become enemies and targets. The mousy co-worker Rebecca, who liked celebrating birthdays and baking cakes each month, found three quick rounds into the core as said mousy HR personnel became hardened, determined, yelling loudly “Hail Hydra!” As Rebecca bled out on the floor and her fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent’s gun-carrying trembling hands, she can think only of how she was going to miss those homemade birthday cakes with the killer (poor word choice her brain comments) from-scratch buttercream frosting.

_Fight_

Behind the buzz of electrical currents deep within in the dark recesses of her mind can she feel the wesen brain fully edge out over her lizard brain. The taste for violence is palpable. It tastes of copper, gunpowder, and sweat. She bites back a growl as the change take over. She will never hunt the enemy. She will not betray all that her family taught her. She will instead rely on her Smith and Wesson MP and her enhanced sense to warn of impending danger. She only hopes that there is no Grimm hydra. It’s been too long. “Far too long,” it gravelly croons in her brain, “let me fight.”

_...Kill_

With the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., all she could think of was the fact that she had killed for the very first time in her life. Fights where an older, if only a slightly used, hat but she had never killed. Her family had grown up pacifists fiercely fighting against their procyonid and wesen nature. She could feel the bloodlust pump throughout her. Even if she had used her pistol, that smell of human blood had opened up an old, ancient need to hunt and kill. Her pound and a half pistol felt heavier as the reality was sinking into her core. She had killed someone. S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone. Her entire life completely disrupted. She no longer had any employment or health insurance and wondered if her identity was now in tatters (thanks to her first run in with S.H.I.E.L.D.). If only that were to be the least of her problems.

The fight was a long and arduous one. Hydra agents were ever the aggressive cult brimming with agents who would fight to the death. If said agents had lost the fight, they would bring about their death in the form of suicide pills. Their last moments of life were writhing in pain foam filling their mouth. She had lost several co-workers some she had liked, some she did not, some she knew well and others not so much. The only remorse she was feeling was the fact that these Hydra agents had given up their lives to what was a horribly corrupt organization and had Nazi roots and beliefs. "How could they even side with Hydra? And for what end?" she wondered though she was quickly wondering the same of her fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. co-workers who were killed by Hydra agents.

She moved around the administration levels as carefully and quietly as she could with her purse and satchel held in place on her back. She opted to use a pair of knives to stealthily incapacitate "the enemy" (much easier that way than seeing "the enemy" as Sam from accounting with the fiancé and the kid on the way). She did not want to call attention to herself if she could help it. More so with the fact she didn't know how many agents on the side of Captain America had survived. Even with her being a waschsbar, which did give her a slight edge, these were hardened agents she was facing.

She was a mid-level administrative assistant and a full-time student at George Washington University getting a master in Political Management while taking some low-level classes in International Affairs at the Elliot School of International Affairs. It was a small blessing that she had already turned in her dissertation and that the university was about to go into spring break. Also, a boon in her favor was that everything had been paid for before shit hit the fan. 

She hid behind a cubicle wall. The blood was loudly pumping through her veins making it difficult to hear. She focused on calming herself trying to force her heart rate to slow down, to quiet her panting, to bite back the tears threatening to fall. She was not going to panic even if it would be normal given the circumstance. She rescued puppies the last time she was in a crisis! She was then going to sure as hell rescue herself and try to get others to safety.

When this was finally over, and she was left standing (or sitting currently) she was going to pack up her belongings. She had already put her efficient hacking skills (she did hack into the DMV after all--admittedly of a small town--but still) would mean she could erase her connection to S.H.I.E.L.D. It was one of the first things she did. She kept all the necessary documentation she needed to work there but instead chose the name of Jaclyn Wintour complete with all the papers needed. She had used photoshop to make a mish-mash of female faces into the system. Surprisingly, the agency never brought it into question. That should have told her the dire straits the agency was in. As long as she kept her head down, didn’t make a fuss, never got there too early, too late and stuck to the schedule that worked out for her, and worked at an above average pace no one noticed her. She was always a little better than the median.

Given the nature of the business she was in, administrative support was needed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She had hacked into their system that housed the human resource files and adjusted her schedule. They were on a lesser secure server supposing that any hacktivists and the like would be far more concerned with mission reports, budget reports and the like. No one paid much mind in her changing schedules as long as she did her work. At least her boss had been one of those that liked to work in the background either always in meetings, on business trips, or holed up in their office. All of the work was dropped off at the secretary's desk and picked up hourly by their boss. There was no real camaraderie at work aside from Rebecca’s cakes (she was going to miss them). Every month there was a generic “Happy Birthday” cake from the nearest superstore from human resources as well as one made by Rebecca from Human Resources. No names were mentioned nor were there any birthday cards or for any special occasion for that matter. The agency must have seen that as a liability. Their paranoia in many ways helped her blend in.

She would get to her stash of cash, passports and other valuables she had acquired for a torrential downpour (and this was a level 5 hurricane) and get the hell out of Dodge. The best bet would be to create a file stating that she was K.I.A. She’d have to rely on the hope that the security footage during her employment was destroyed, or long since forgotten. Though that would be the last resort being fond of the astrophysicist who she hoped was safe away from S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra. Though if she could do all that, she was going to consider trying to find a job at Stark Industries or possibly the Avengers and maybe take some courses at Columbia. (It never hurt to continue learning new things that would give her more leverage if the economy exploded).

Her best bet was to get out and head south on the trails on the perimeter of the island to route 66 and then figure out a way of crossing the bridge up to Foggy Bottom. Then she’d head home to her apartment at Columbia Plaza. It was a dated apartment with the flower wallpaper, but right now she could do with a hot meal, hot shower, a change of clothes and watching the fall out on CNBC.

She ran down the trail. She could see the bridge in sight. She was close. She turned around when she had heard his voice. Her boyfriend had caught up with her. No, he wasn’t a boyfriend. He was someone who she slept with from time to time and always at a hotel. She always did a sweep of her devices to make sure he didn’t bug her. She was as paranoid as much as the agency was.

There was something to Richard that raised her hackles. She had always assumed that what had her instinct been telling her was that of his being a spy. Now it was something different, more dangerous, much more sinister. Could he have been Hydra? She had been a fuck buddy with a Hydra operative?

How could she not have _known_?

How was it even _possible_?

What would this even _mean_ (to her, to what was happening)?

Would she be seen as _treasonous_?

“Richard,” her voice growled out, “ _how could you_?”

Richard smirked before saying two words she’d come to loathe with every cell of her body, “Hail Hydra.”

He attacked her with a ferocity that he had reserved for the enemy. She was now the enemy. An enemy whose gun had been kicked away when she drew it on Richard. She blocked his attacks with his doing the same. Neither was leaving any opening, and both defending. She knew she was going to have to use Richard’s strength against him. As Richard rushed her, she dodged as she did three stabbings into his side in quick succession. The third stabbing slipped through Richard’s rib penetrating his lung. He grunted with pain and spewing a litany of curses. His clothing was spreading with blood.

“You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight,” her brain commented knowing that was Richard's aim, to try and gain distance so that he could draw his gun on her. Richard swung back managing to get a hold of her wrist nearly breaking it. Her dominant hand was now out of commission she would have to rely on her other hand. “Going to have to train the other hand,” her brain supplied on an ongoing checklist. She was going to have to fight smart. She started to focus her attacks on the stab wounds.

Richard pushed her back enough for him to gain the upper hand by pulling out his gun. She saw him cock his gun. As if time was moving like molasses, she heard the click, saw his trigger finger flinch readying to fire. She rushed Richard causing him to fire in reaction. Using the element of surprise, she twisted herself so that she could control where the bullet would end up.

The bullet tore through her like liquid fire. The pain was nearly unbearable, but at least it had been superficial. Following the variable smoking gun lead to pain that was far worse than the one in her upper arm though not by much. She groaned in pain as she landed on her severely sprained wrist. Richard momentarily paused watching Darcy fall. Darcy gathered all the strength she could and lunged at him with a hidden stiletto in her business coat.

The stiletto pierced Richard’s throat, and if luck were on her side, then it would have struck any major artery in his neck. She didn’t want to wait. The last two words she heard Richard speak was going to haunt her for a very long time.

“Sorry honey,” Richard said. It had been the one term of endearment she allowed when they were together alone in the room. She never allowed any more intimacy than that.

The entire left side felt on fire. Her wrist would need a brace or a splint. She was going to have to find a black market doctor to stitch her up or do a rough patch up job herself. There was no way she was going to go to any clinic or hospital. She climbed the pedestrian stairs at the side facing her apartment complex. She had decided to go through Rock Creek Park Trails to end up on Ohio Drive, followed by 23rd then Virginia Ave the street she resided. It would provide the straightest shot to her apartment while also allowing her some privacy.

In all of the chaos she had managed to retain her purse and satchel even during her fight with Richard. Inside she found a scarf that she used as a bandage. She put back on her thankfully black business coat.

Her apartment was less than a mile away. While she looked like a frightful mess, everyone was far more concerned about current goings on at the Triskelion. She repeated the streets she was going to take, the things she had to do in over and over to keep her focus on moving forward to her apartment and not on her injuries.

Jacyln Wintour was going to have to be killed in action. Darcy Lewis on the other hand very much alive and very much getting the hell out of D.C.


	2. Getting the hell out of Dodge on a full stomach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read, review and critique; I've redone this chapter

Chapter Two: Getting the hell out of Dodge on a full stomach 

“This is going to be field dressing 101,” Darcy amped herself up as she looked at the wound. She remembered some of her training but the most she had to worry about was a papercut not a gunshot wound. It wasn't pretty but it could have been a lot worse. Darcy imagined gun made of paper that would give paper cuts and let out a giggle that bordered on hysterical, full of adrenaline and hysteria.

The frantic giggles broke down into choking sobs. Her arm hurt. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Darcy was most angry about her heart even though her arm was throbbing. Every movement of her arm sent a fiery burn up to her shoulder and upper body. 

Darcy was angry for even starting to remotely think of Richard as anything more. She had broken the rule by letting him call her “honey” in the bedroom and him letting her call him “sweetie.” Him and his damn Galaga story that got him demoted to the administrative levels. He was supposed to be there for sex only, a no strings attached sort of deal. Darcy bit her lip trying to recall who had taken the initiative.

Her face paled, her throat dried, as she forced herself to take deep breaths to calm herself before thinking of one curse word before memories flooded her. 

Fuck...

****

“This seat taken?” Darcy looks up from her simple packed lunch and sees a handsome young man in a sharp suit. He looks to be about several inches taller than Darcy so maybe five foot nine or ten. However with Darcy being petite that was still gigantic to her.

“By all means but are we allowed to socialize at work?” Darcy replied not doing anything further that showed an interest. To many it might seem like an odd question. However there was an unspoken knowledge that the top boss and second in command of the entire administration department preferred that any socializing be restricted to after work hours and always in the highest regard to discretion. Basically in a nutshell: keep everything compartmentalized, don't breach confidentiality for any reason, avoid those in higher position or in the same department (especially if there's a shared supervisor). She was going to play it cool.

With him being seated she took a good look at him. His blonde hair was combed over with no hair out of place. His lush, pink lips smirked as Darcy unabashedly gave him the once over.

“I pass your rigorous inspection?” He asked with a soft Texan drawl with the tip of his lip barely jutting out playfully. He was working to erase it. Shame, she liked the accent. Perhaps basic ‘no accent’ had been a requirement for those in the field. Maybe he was losing his touch?

“For now, so, cowboy,” Darcy smirked, “what do I owe for the pleasure of your fine presence?”

***

Darcy moved with more urgency. She didn't want to think about how her sleeping with a Hydra sleeper agent was simply a coincidence. Even if it wasn't Darcy couldn't allow herself to not think of the worst possible scenario. Prior to her escape, there had been short footage of DC swat shooting up a black SUV, a very much S.H.I.E.L.D. issued SUV. Darcy had her social media setup to notify her when certain hashtags or phrases were used. When she saw the brief footage then how quickly it was taken down (and in hindsight, the person behind the twitter account no doubt in danger), it raised Darcy’s hackles. The news reporters were pushing the criminal, now fugitive, pursuit narrative. They urged citizens to be aware, cautious, not to venture out unless necessary and to be indoors when evening came. The waschbar side of her brain had begun to feel prickly even then. Darcy had always maintained appearances as well maintained cover as Wintour and as Darcy. If anything she was moving closer to pushing the big red button.

Her television quietly played the latest news in the background. News were leaking of Captain America’s treachery. His falling out of a glass elevator certainly helped pushed that Captain America was committing some of treasonous, if not terroristic, behavior. If anything the headlines were quite clearly explicit in how capable Hydra was of doing the worst possible scenario. They do doubt had news casters in their pocket. Manipulating information was definitely in their wheelhouse.

She wasn't sure if Richard knew who she really was. Even though she had scrubbed everything tying her past to S.H.I.E.L.D., Darcy had to come some grim conclusions. Simply because she had altered and destroyed files didn't mean Hydra didn't have their own file server somewhere. So despite her best efforts Jane, Erik and herself were still in danger. The fact that Hydra was able to operate so invisibly for so long meant that their technology, security and filing system was well above Darcy’s abilities. Or at least very well hidden beyond what Darcy could find likely hidden on some network with a corporation as a front or something else entirely.

She would have to wait while her devices and extra power packs were charging along with the other preparations. At least she had the good sense to keep them from depleting completely. So she wouldn’t have to wait an additional few hours after doing everything she had to. 

Darcy had been one of the smart ones who managed to escape early in spite of the ongoing fight. There weren't any news reporters when she crossed the bridge. It seemed that top S.H.I.E.L.D. brass had tried to keep the incursion as under wraps as possible though some information had leaked. In spite of the leak, the script seemed to have been prepared long before suggesting that Hydra had calculated Captain America’s actions and had the “source information” that news outlets were salivating over. Additionally, Hydra likely had numerous officers, EMTs and dispatchers on their payroll who were fielding calls away from S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters which was an absolutely terrifying thought.

Darcy's first order of business after getting prepared was going to be adding Jaclyn Wintour as one of the deceased. She was going to have to try and scrub all surveillance footage of around the apartment complex. Everyone would be so concentrated on the events no one noticed her slip in and out so there'd likely be no witnesses. 

Darcy moved on to the shower and two boxes of dark brown hair dye (she never did fully like the blonde hair) after having a moment to reflect so that she could properly bandage herself up. That and getting it out of the way meant there were less neighbors to notice her rummaging about. The hot water would help massage out the kinks in her muscles and destress. 

Darcy sniffed the Lush shampoo and could feel herself overcome with emotion. That asshole had given her a Lush basket for Christmas. She was going to miss all of the bath bombs that she was going to leave behind. She was going to take a good amount of the shower gel, lotion shampoo and conditioner. She'd the leave the rest behind in differing amounts. When she made it to New York one of her first orders of business would be to visit Lush. It was that important. 

Darcy had given him an expensive watch that she paid with cash. Would any remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra look into Richard's watch? Did they after she had given him the watch? The watch was one of those kinds that had a specific serial number that could be tracked to the original vendor and point of sale. Since it had been months prior she hoped that tracking the point of sale would take some time. Her mind supplied a weak “yeay,” since she couldn't know if this good thing was enough but that would have to be another task to add to her ever growing to-do list.

It was a rabbit hole she refused to go down on at least for now. The last thing she needed was a panic attack even if a well deserved one. Darcy needed to keep a level head until she could get to safety. She had to channel the Black Widow at least for the next 48 to 72 hours after which she was going to doing a shopping spree at Lush, take a bath and then binge Netflix, and maybe have a good cry.

With herself cleaned up and her wound taken care of Darcy was now wearing the “Darcy Lewis” clothing she had to retire tucked away in a hidden compartment in her closet. She felt freer than she did in a long time. It was time to pack. She needed the essentials: several pairs of underwear, several bras, several pairs of jeans, a couple of cardigans, some sweaters, a few tee shirts and several beanies. Darcy picked up her glasses.

“Certainly don't miss all the cleaning I had to do,” as she wiped her glasses clean and slid them on. They felt burdensome. She'd get used to it again.

She took all of her cash out of her hiding place deep in the back of her closet which she estimated to be around ten thousand in one hundred and fifty dollar bills. She took out the Darcy Lewis passport. All other documents that were tied to Jaclyn Wintour that were non-essential would have to be burned.

With her traveling bag packed with her clothes, cash and toiletries Darcy knew she had to leave enough evidence of Jaclyn Wintour living there. So the passport was filed away in a small accordion file along with the latest cell phone bill (the phone left in her desk drawer), the most recent credit card statement that Darcy had paid off earlier that week, and the most recent bank statement in Wintour’s name. Darcy then decided to hide these files in the secret compartment in her closet. It was Darcy’s hope that by doing so any agents who were investigating the apartment would assume Jaclyn was simply being a good agent.

Darcy left all of the Jaclyn Wintour clothing including enough pairs of underwear and bras to not raise suspicion. Leaving the bras behind pained Darcy especially given how much she paid for them. Darcy looked around assessing the closet, the personal paperwork, the dresser, and the nightstand making sure it was left in order. Darcy left a book on the nightstand with a simple bookmark in it. It was one of those New York top sellers. The kind that people would buy to look literary. The bedroom was only just messy enough but still neat enough that screamed “here lives a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.”

Darcy took out her cleaning supplies and scrubbed her apartment clean and dried her shower. She hoped that Swiffer and Clorox would be enough. She'd take out the trash from cleaning and dump it in a dumpster. All other trash like used napkins, food containers, makeup towelettes and the like would stay in the garbage after dousing them with Lysol.

Darcy opened her fridge and took an ice cold beer. After taking a long sip, she began to pack away some leftovers for when she left. There were some things that should never be wasted: Soul food, Italian food and Chinese all ranked high. All she had though was leftover pizza which could at least travel well. Everything else like the condiments, the salad making kit, deli meat as well as the contents of the freezer would be left to melt and spoil. Darcy added some water bottles, and vitamin water to the tote bag along with the washed and dried beer bottle. She couldn't take a chance and leave any trace of her DNA behind.

With her devices fully charged, she did a quick check into her Darcy Lewis accounts. Everything had been accounted for. All of her university information was covered. She had her credit card paid off which she supposed she could use in an emergency. The address she had on file was to a P.O. box address. With everything university related being online, she had been able to erase her apartment address and add in the P.O. box address.

Now it came to actually getting out of Washington D.C. Darcy pondered for a moment. Taking a bus or train to New York seemed a lot more dangerous given all of the surveillance. Though perhaps she could use it to her advantage.

Darcy walked to the Union Station. She waited in line to purchase a one way ticket to New York. There were so many officers milling about on high alert now that mainstream media was running reports of Captain America being an enemy of the state. 

“One way ticket to New York please,” Darcy asked.

“Purpose?” The clerk asked clearly new security measures were in place.

“To visit family that I've been neglecting far too long,” Darcy said truthfully.

“Been getting a lot of that, that whole Captain America thing really made people reflective. Time you want to leave?” The clerk asked Darcy.

“The red eye or whichever allows me to bring luggage and a carry-on, I want to take back some gifts, and get some food in me plus a nap would be nice.” Darcy responded.

Next came to renting a locker that was near an entrance but still out of the way to afford minimal privacy. Darcy stowed her belongings. She had taken out her cellphone that had been in her name with Google News and her news apps set to alerting her regarding the latest regarding the Captain America. ‘Fall of the Triskelion’ from her large tote sized purse that held a small portion of her money in the lining of the purse. The rest had been placed in the lining of her luggage along with a written contact list that contained Jane’s secure email (thanks to her), along with her immediate family. Inside the purse held a pair of tennis shoes, extra beanie, her scarf, wallet, unopened bottle of water, makeup bag, sewing kit, electrical tape and her gum. As she was about to exit she was stopped by a police officer. He began to question some of her contents namely the shoes and electrical tape.

“Look officer as much as I have a deep seated affection for my Converse they're not the most comfortable shoes. The electrical tape is for a sewing emergency when I don't have enough time to sew or to hold off the emergency until I can patch it up.”

The officer shook his head. He began to ask other routine questions such as where she had been, where she was headed, what were her plans and others like these. Darcy answered them all truthfully. She had remembered the tips from S.H.I.E.L.D., if you were a lousy liar that sometimes Darcy could be then it's better to tell a kernel of truth and let the other person rationalize it.

She stopped at the Verizon Wireless located within the station. She purchased a prepaid plan for her new Samsung Galaxy tablet, a mifi so that she’d have a mobile hotspot and a basic cellphone. She’d use the hotspot to clean up any loose ends while on the road. With the way everything was going down, the easiest would be to have Wintour killed in action.

It was a nice sensation being able to say Darcy Lewis without her S.H.I.E.L.D. operative lifestyle hanging over her head. Leaving everything that belonged to Jaclyn Wintour behind gave Darcy such a happy feeling. S.H.I.E.L.D. was behind her and hopefully it was the last time she'd cross their path.

Darcy thought of the long term motel that she had rented under her real name. It was filled with takeout, microwave dinners, thrift store clothing, and anything else that screamed broke college student. She figured that if any S.H.I.E.L.D. agent recognized her name by canvassing the area they'd come to wonder how Darcy had a P.O. box address. With their agent ‘know how’ they'd come across the room and conclude that Darcy was a broke college student and nothing more. One who was studying in D.C. and given her field that made quite a bit of sense. Then they'd track her to New York and hopefully if she played her cards right crashing at Jane's place.

Darcy looked around with all the officers, national guard, and more setting up roadblocks and barricades her initial plan was shot to hell. She had initially planned on heading to Bladensburg road by foot. There were several used car lots there. She had originally wanted to buy a car with cash. Then after picking up her stuff from her locker she'd head up to New York. However she was sure that would have looked suspicious so she decided on taking a train.

It seemed she'd be taking the 66 Northeast Regional departing a little after ten at night  
instead. Darcy sighed supposing sleeping on the ride over would do her some good. Although with a predetermined route, she'd be easy to pick off. Darcy hoped that she wouldn't have to worry about that. Sure, she had been Jane's assistant but there were bigger fish to fry who were far more valuable.

She had wanted to walk to Georgia Brown’s near Farragut Square. There was live jazz at Georgia’s. She could really use some great comfort food and music to soothe her nerves. Unfortunately though Darcy doubted she could get a reservation on such short notice even with the city being on such high alert. There was Art and Soul near Union Square. At least she’d be near the square and be able to get a delicious seasonal cocktail. Not such a bad deal after all Darcy concluded to herself.

The restaurant was fairly empty save for a few tables. However she was seated at the bar fully intent of ordering a “Nasty Martha”--Martha Washington’s rum punch complemented by toasted pasilla chili and candied meyer lemon. She could feel it burn down her throat and hit her stomach. It filled her with a much needed enveloping warmth. Darcy read over the happy hour menu and decided that she was going to eat to her heart’s fill because she had no idea if she’d ever make it back.

Fried pickled green tomatoes, cheesy smokey pig fries, pork rinds, and a charcuterie filled with several items were placed in front of her. Darcy could feel the vibrations of her grumbling stomach. She was in definite need of some delicious food therapy. Stocking up on calories seemed like the way to go and with such good food, how could she not? While eating, she ordered a roll call--enjoying the vodka, port and pomegranate reduction and sparkling wine. 

Darcy knew she had leftover pizza in her bag but the call of food was too much. Ordering food would allow her to not have to make plans if there were any delays. She ordered a grass fed burger, a blt, and the twelve hour pork to go. “Heading home via bus, and I’d rather have cold food from here than convenient store food,” Darcy shrugged as the bartender and her struck up a conversation. She didn’t relay any personal information only saying that she had finished up schooling and was heading out west to visit family. Again, she hid a grain of truth in there. She really did finish schooling and she was heading to see family. Jane was family to Darcy.

Everything seemed to be on radio silence that is until the helicarriers were up in the air. Their military grade weaponry were aimed at American civilians. There was no way to hide this. It would be a matter of time before details of the attempted attack would be leaked onto the internet. Then when they crashed into the Triskelion and into the Potomac river did the world really explode in a chaotic frenzy. 

Darcy was a half mile northwest from Union Square when she heard the sirens, see the news helicopters, see people look into the sky terrified with the attack of New York on their minds. No doubt thinking about how they terrestrial attacks (this one being in their backyards and no idea how widespread the attack could've been) and extraterrestrial attacks. Though with the former, Darcy would feel remiss if she didn't remind the general person that there were parts of the world where warfare attacks did actually happen in their own backyards. This sort of thing wasn't new but the scale of the attack really was right up there with some of the deadlier attacks. Perhaps with less 1940’s villain thought to be dead and superheroes but still. 

Yet with the latter Darcy realized she had been in two of the three extraterrestrial attacks that she knew of. First, the space robots that breathed fire then second, space elves that were trying to bring about eternal darkness with some space rage mist. Two out of three were horrible odds Darcy grimaced. She was certainly successful in being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Why couldn't she have those kind of odds when shopping for new underwear or bras?

Darcy could hear from the news report that she had playing from her smartphone app that there had been many agents who had escaped the Triskelion. Those who were on the 41st floor and above weren't so lucky. With S.H.I.E.L.D. being dead in the water, Darcy hoped that her technical prowess was enough. She gave a moment of silence for the agents who died in trying to protect the world from Hydra. However she couldn’t ignore the opportunity, she’d have Wintour on the 41st floor who died heroically in the line of duty. 

The female newscaster began to report on data dump released prior to the crash. Their inside source traced the origin from Fury’s own office. Someone had triggered the release of all S.H.I.E.L.D. files.

Darcy sighed loudly and her craned her neck. She stared upward to the sky. Thoughts rushed through her brain. Some ranged from the endorphin rush of relief even if stunted by her earlier worries. Glad that all files regarding herself, Jane, Puente Antiguo and the space elves had been completely removed before the data dump. So it was at least a small win in her favor. Only the paper copies whose location undoubtedly known only to those of a high enough level and Hydra’s secret stash existed. She had no idea where those kind of files existed paper or otherwise. What was the super secret organization Iron Mountain equivalent anyhow or its evil organization counterpart?

She continued to watch the news on her phone. They were out for blood. Not only were they questioning S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra but they were questioning the Avengers themselves. They were replaying soundbites from the various Avengers throughout the years. From Tony Stark’s own hearing, to promises of exposés of the rest of the team. They were discussing about the hearing that would come about emphasizing Black Widow’s own sordid history. It had been reported that Stark Industries had managed to retrieve the files but there were many hacktivists that had been able to keep copies. It had been broken up into torrents on private peer-to-peer file sharing networks. The media was having a field day with Stark Industries claiming that they were clearly hiding wrongdoing and on it went.

All it was doing was creating a cluster fuck of epic proportions. Darcy could feel her headache return. She had taken some painkillers to take the edge off but all of the worries were getting to her.

All Darcy knew was that she was getting the hell out Dodge on a full stomach.


End file.
